THIS ISN’T ENGLAND
The whole damn place is up for sale
From Darlington to Dover
In Digbeth, Dudley, Doncaster
People are being screwed over
I saw a severed helping hand
Twitching by the quicksand
It’s only now I think – as I start to sink
This isn’t England … No, this isn’t England
Babe we’ll somehow make ends meet
I’ll get a loan till payday
Radio silence – stop transmitting
MAY DAY MAY DAY MAY DAY
Divide and rule tactics
Dirty tricks and less pay
Bouquets for Grenfell wilting by the Westway
Wilting by the Westway
See the old school ties still try to hawk
Favoured tyrants fighter jets
An empire of stupidity
On which the sun never sets
The poor are sent to war or to
Pay off the Tories gambling debts
Have we ever before needed more
Ranters, Diggers, Suffragettes
Come on Ranters, Diggers, Suffragettes!
—–
CHORUS
I will not shoot a hole in my soul
To stand blindly and salute beneath any flagpole
But even I understand
This isn’t England
—–
A young dad talks in a foodbank queue
About falling levels of literacy
As a cold wind snaps at the chained-up door
Of a closed down local library
On a lonely ward with no family near
Jean’s machine began to beep
She died on a FaceTime call that night
As they drank champagne in Downing Street
Drank champagne in Downing Street
Do you look down from the blinding flag
To work out who is waving it?
Do you stare at England’s tombstone
And those who are engraving it?
Do you ever wonder how long
We will watch them smash and grab and break?
Before our rage comes of age
And we make the walls of Whitehall shake
Make the walls of Whitehall shake
—–
CHORUS
—–
Now we’re just lonely islands all
Watching the slowly rising sea
But the council pool where we learnt to swim
Is now sunk in a wave of bankruptcy
We long for change but still we fear
There’s money to be made from misery
Will the sign on the wall say it all:
NHS…BC
N…HSBC
—–
CODA
Good riddance, yes, to all of those
Who’ve hacked and stacked this threadbare land
A warning, too, for those who wait
With no lifeboats on the strand
We long for hope but still we sense
Old spectres poised in lobbies grand
I sign and think – as we’re on the brink
This isn’t England – no this isn’t England
This isn’t England – no this isn’t England
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THE BEAUTY OF THIS WORLD
A blossom storm
A frost white lawn
All dreams will be reborn
The breeze will blow…
But… before you go…
You have to know
How loved you really are
A star… drawing in the dawn
I’m not afraid of taking my love
I’m afraid of not giving
I’m not afraid of dying my love
I’m afraid of not living
A tiny hand grips onto a finger
Even when we leave our love will linger
And though it’s confusing, bleak, lonely, sad
The beauty of this world has made me glad
The perfumed dusk… a lover’s touch… an old friend…
The end of something that you knew had to end
And though it’s confusing, bleak, lonely, sad
The beauty of this world has made me glad
In spite of all these things – the beauty is still undimmed
In spite of how we fall – the beauty heals it all
In spite of all this pain – the beauty still remains
In spite of all these things – the beauty is still undimmed
Undimmed… undimmed… undimmed…
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A SECRET
CHORUS
I’ve got a secret and it sits beside me in this room
I’ve dragged it down the years and I’ll take it with me to my tomb
A strange stamp from a distant land
A letter howled in a shaking hand
An unknown son, a life unplanned
A baby babbled on a teenage knee
She was snagged with guilt as she caught a glance
Of her husband stood there in his pants
Watering the tomato plants
In their new brick-built conservatory
He said “what did the postman bring…
Anything interesting?”
She started to fiddle with her wedding ring
The opened her mouth but couldn’t talk
For she knew that she could never reply
To the bastard apple of her eye
Or the honesty of a life-long lie
Would wither like a sun-scarred stalk
—–
CHORUS
—–
Air-raid sirens AM… PM…
People thought “best start carping the diem”
She met a lad from back home called Liam
As the chaos of the night reigned above
She fell like a bomb for his wide-eyed charms
His chat up lines from the Book of Psalms
His “hold me in the shadow of thy arms…
And bathe me in thy wondrous love!”
But then people followed strict moral laws
Girls who showed their knees were whores
Women always did the household chores
And a lass would flinch from her lover’s touch
As the bombs rattled the blacked-out door
They enjoyed each other on the scullery floor
Her good looks were her downfall, sure
Her mother always said as much
—–
CHORUS
—–
In dreams he’d hear a soft voice say:
“I had no choice but to give you away…”
That dreadful bleak Manchester day
Many many years ago
He tried to find her address
Sent letters to the local Northern press
It’s all very well trying to second guess
But some things you just have to know
Did she cut him clean from her mind?
Was she now lonely, house-bound, blind?
Or had she maybe managed to find
A happiness of some strange sort?
The words escape across the page
A life-long sentence tries to gauge
If she might write back… at some stage…
The letter is sealed and a stamp is bought
—–
CHORUS
—–
all lyrics Ⓒ Sean Moriarty